Cold Fear

by Susan Sleeman

  And look what happened. Jill betrayed her. And then there was Carolyn, her financial advisor. She’d embezzled millions of Leah’s hard-earned dollars and spent every penny of it, pretty much draining Leah’s accounts, and she was nearly broke now.

  “Ms. Kent,” Blake said.

  Could Carolyn be involved? “You should talk to my former financial advisor, Carolyn Eubanks. I had to fire her four months ago for embezzlement. Jill was her client, too, and I think she lost money as well.” Leah shook her head. “My fault. I thought Carolyn was amazing and I referred several of my employees to her. In hindsight, I regret doing that.”

  “Backup singers and musicians make the kind of money that requires a financial advisor?” Blake asked.

  “Not all the time, but I want people I can trust around me,” she replied, catching the irony in her own words. “People who are talented and will be loyal to the team, and who won’t bail on me for a better offer. Means I pay far higher than the going rate. Most of my team have been with me since the beginning.”

  Blake stared at her. “Except Jill and Carolyn.”

  “Yes, except them,” Leah said sadly. “And I wish that was different. You don’t know how much.”

  “I get that Jill might have a reason to want to kill Carolyn,” Riley said. “But why would Carolyn want to kill Jill?”

  Leah shrugged. “She just came to mind as someone in my world who was devious. Plus Jill will…uh, would have been testifying against Carolyn along with me.”

  “Ms. Eubanks could be trying to stop that, I suppose,” Blake said, but he didn’t sound like it was a good lead. “Give me her contact information, and I’ll talk to her.”

  Leah scrolled through her phone contacts to Carolyn’s name and shared it with him, very aware that Riley was still in the room and watching her every move. She was surprised he wasn’t grilling her along with the sheriff.

  Blake made a note of the details.

  With all his notes, how many pads must he use in the course of his job?

  He looked up. “Do you own a gun, Ms. Kent?”

  What? Where’d that come from? Surely, he didn’t think she— “You think I shot Jill?”

  “Just covering all bases.” He gave her a pointed look. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Yes, I own a gun,” she said and didn’t care that she sounded belligerent.

  Pen poised over his notepad, he stared at her. “What’s the make and model?”

  So, yeah, he honestly thought she could’ve shot Jill. Unbelievable. She hadn’t done it, so it didn’t matter if she told him about her gun. “It’s a Ruger LC9S. The purple model if it matters.”

  That went into his notebook, too. “If we find Jill was killed with a 9mm, would you be willing to surrender your gun for ballistics testing?”

  “Of course.”

  His eyebrow went up as if he didn’t think she would really comply. “When was the last time you had contact with Jill?”

  “The day I fired her.”

  “Tell me more about that.”

  “There’s not much to tell. I was dating Neil, and I caught them in the bus in a compromising situation in my bed. I told her to pack her things and leave as well as ended my relationship with Neil on the spot. For what it’s worth, she said he started things with her, but honestly it didn’t matter to me. She had a choice. She could’ve told me about his advances and not gotten involved with him.”

  “And when was this?”

  “I’d have to check our tour schedule for the exact date, but it was a little over a month ago in Portland.”

  Blake tucked his notebook and pen into his pocket and pushed off the makeup table.

  Leah nearly sighed with relief. He was done, leaving, and this was almost over.

  He met her gaze and held it, and she didn’t like the fire burning there. “Can you think of any reason why she would have your name freshly tattooed on her wrist?”

  “What? My name?” Leah gaped at him.

  Blake nodded. Riley opened his mouth to say something, but Blake silenced him with a look. “Answer my question, Ms. Kent.”

  But how? “I have no idea why she would do that. It’s pure craziness. She hated me for firing her. Why would she want my name on her arm?”

  “Do you have any tattoos?” he asked.

  She glanced up at Riley. Had he told Blake about their matching set? Didn’t matter. She had nothing to hide. She held out her left arm and tapped her wrist. “I have one here. It has my name and Riley’s on it. But I either wear long sleeves or cover it with concealer anytime I’m in public. I don’t want gossip reporters to go looking for Riley and make his life miserable.”

  This was true, but even more she didn’t want Riley’s father to find out and sue for custody of Owen.

  “Seems like a lot of work,” Blake said. “Why not have it removed?”

  Indeed. Why not? A thought she had most every time she covered it up, but she couldn’t get rid of it even if it would make her life easier. She had no idea why, but she couldn’t.

  She shrugged.

  Blake narrowed his eyes. “Can you wash off the concealer so I can look at the tattoo?”

  “Sure.” She got up and went to the sink.

  She pumped soap on her wrist and soon the blue-inked infinity tattoo appeared. She resisted running her finger over the figure eight shaped loop, her name on one side, Riley’s on the other. He’d gotten a matching tattoo, but he was a rookie police officer, and though tattoos were allowed back then, they were frowned on, so he hid his on the underside of his arm where his shirt sleeve would cover it. Even if he was shirtless, the only way it was visible was if he lifted his arm.

  She’d suggested he put it on his shoulder, as honestly it wasn’t very romantic having her name near his armpit, but he said when he went to Oregon’s recruit training academy, he’d change clothes in front of other recruits, and he didn’t want even a chance that the tattoo could rule him out. In her mind, he’d overreacted, but becoming a cop was everything to him, so she didn’t mention it again.

  She dried her arm and returned to hold it out for the sheriff. He studied it, his eyes narrowing. He pulled out his phone and held it out. “This is the tattoo on Jill’s wrist. It’s in the same location.”

  Dumbstruck, she stared at the screen. This tattoo with the telltale pink skin of a recently inked image really did match Leah’s. Her name was in the correct location on the figure eight, but a question mark was inked where Riley’s name should be located.

  How had this happened? How?

  “No one even knows about my tattoo to have one made like this. Except for people closest to me like my mom, no one knows. Not even Felicity or Kraig.”

  “And me, but then we aren’t close anymore, are we?” Riley’s tone and expression were stony.

  For some reason he was acting hurt. Maybe he didn’t believe her story about covering the tattoo. He could think she was ashamed of having been in a relationship with him and that’s why she hid it. Or she actually wanted to erase him from her life.

  “Did Ms. Stevenson know?” Blake asked.

  “I can’t see how she would. Like I said, I covered it in public. I either wear something that covers it or blot it out. I do so before ever leaving home, and I never forget.” She looked at the photo again.

  Jill’s other hand was in the picture, too. She wore a ring. One that Leah recognized, shock traveling through her. She held out the phone to the sheriff and tapped the delicate silver cross in a circle. “This is my ring. Jill must have stolen it before she left the tour.”

  He took the phone and enlarged the picture. “How can you be sure it’s your ring?”

  “A fan made it for me. She said it was a one-of-a-kind and no others exist.”

  Blake furrowed his high forehead. “Didn’t you notice it was missing?”

  Leah shook her head.

  “Then you haven’t worn it after you fired Ms. Stevenson.”

  Leah thought back,
trying to remember her outfits and jewelry for the concerts. “I don’t honestly know. I only wear it for performances, and there have been so many concerts since then. Felicity might remember, though. I can ask her.”

  “Go ahead, but don’t tell her where we spotted the ring.”

  Leah got out her phone and was surprised to see her hands still trembling. Okay, maybe surprised wasn’t the word. Shocked was more like it. Jill had been murdered. Leah was seeing Riley for the first time in five years, and she feared her past would be revealed like Pandora’s box exploding open. Of course she was shaking.

  “Everything okay?” Felicity asked.

  “I’m putting you on speaker so Riley and Sheriff Jenkins can hear you.” Leah tapped the speaker button. “You know that circle cross ring I got from a fan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you remember the last time I wore it?”

  “Hmm, let’s see.” Silence filled the phone. “I’m not sure if it was the last time, but you definitely wore it at the Chicago concerts. You were nervous because of the bigger crowds after playing the smaller venues, and you wanted to have a reminder that God was with you.”

  “Oh, right. I remember now. I wore it every night in Chicago.”

  “When was that?” Blake asked.

  Felicity rattled off a date about six weeks ago.

  Leah muted the phone. “Is it okay if I have her check for the ring in my jewelry box? Just to be sure it’s gone?”

  The sheriff shook his head. “If Ms. Stevenson stole it, her prints could still be on the box, and we’ll want to preserve those.”

  Fingerprints. Stolen. Murder. Leah could hardly believe what was happening. She wanted to crawl in some hole and hide until it was all resolved. But with her tour schedule, she couldn’t hide for even a day. She would face things head-on like she always did and get this resolved.

  She unmuted the phone. “Thanks, Felicity. That’s all the questions I have.”

  “Can I help in any other way?”

  “I’m good for now, but thanks for asking.” Leah quickly disconnected before Felicity started to ask questions Leah couldn’t answer.

  “I’ll have my team look for the ring and fingerprint the jewelry box when they process your dressing room.” Blake frowned. “Is there anything more you can tell me about the ring or the tattoo?”

  Was there? Her mind was a muddled mess, and she just didn’t know. “I suppose Jill might have liked my ring and had a copy made, but I doubt it. And as far as the tattoo, I honestly don’t see how anyone could’ve even known about it.”

  He crossed his arms. “Well someone knew, and for some reason, Ms. Stevenson chose to have it inked on her arm.”

  “Or someone did it to her while she was held captive,” Riley said.

  Leah shot him a look. “What are you saying?”

  “That whoever killed her arranged to have the tattoo done before he killed her. Likely as a message to you.”

  What? Even more craziness. “But what kind of message?”

  Riley widened his stance, a move she knew well. He was digging in. Putting his foot down and either creating a line he wouldn’t cross or committing to something. “I don’t know, but I won’t stop looking into it until I have the answer and I’m positive you’re safe again.”

  Her heart beat hard but not from fear. It was hard to believe that she had a good man in her life again who genuinely cared about keeping her safe. Since she’d become famous, the men she’d encountered were shallow and wanted to use her in some way.

  It was a heady feeling to have a fine man like Riley defend her, but the moment she told him about Owen, that would change, and odds were good that he would walk away from her.

  Then who would defend her from the stalker who now might also be a killer?

  4

  Leah knew it was time. Not that a tiny dressing room—a murdered woman laying a few feet away—was the right place to tell Riley that he was a father. But then, where was the right place to tell a man he had a four-year-old child? To bring up a painful past?

  Help me do it right. For Riley. For Owen. Please.

  She steeled her resolve and looked up at Riley where he leaned against the wall, his attention fixed on his phone. She opened her mouth to speak. Tried to find the words. Tried to start. Failed. How did she start a conversation that would irrevocably change his life?

  She desperately searched the room as if the right words hung in the air and she just had to grab hold of them. She spotted her phone laying on the table and an idea formed. She tapped in a text for her mother who cared for Owen when Leah was working.

  Send me a really cute picture of Owen.

  Leah sent the text and waited, her heart pounding so loudly that she was sure Riley had to hear it thump in her chest, but he didn’t move. Not a bit. Not even an eyelash. What he was doing on his phone she didn’t know, but it captivated him.

  Her phone dinged, and she looked at the screen. She’d received a photo taken at a recent zoo outing. Owen stared up at a tall giraffe, his eyes alight with wonder and excitement. Owen was beyond adorable in the picture. A perfect photo for a man to see his son for the first time.

  “Riley,” she said and held her breath.

  He lowered his phone and looked at her. “Yeah?”

  Here goes. “I have something to tell you, but I need you to promise not to share it with anyone else for the moment.”

  “Does it have to do with the investigation?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then. I promise.”

  She woke up her phone and handed it to him.

  He studied the picture and looked up. “He’s cute. Who is he?”

  “That’s Owen. O—my son.” No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t say “our son.” “He turned four two months ago.”

  “You have a child?” The gaping surprise on his face was beyond anything she could imagine. “Who’s his—wait. Four years. You said he was just over four.”

  His gaze locked on hers, digging deep for an answer. “Is he—”

  She took a long breath, gathering the strength and presence of mind to speak the words after years of keeping them silent. “Yes. He’s our son.”

  Riley’s eyes opened wide, a look of wonder in his eyes. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the phone, staring at it hard. Emotions raced across his face. He closed his eyes for a long time, and his free hand curled into a tight fist. She prepared herself for the anger she knew was coming.

  He looked up, an icy coolness froze his expression. “Ours. You said ours.” He took a step toward her and paused. “Unbelievable, Leah. Just unbelievable. How can you stand there calmly and say that when you didn’t bother telling me about him? Not once in four years. Four years! So much time. So very much.”

  She’d expected his anger, but the sheer force caused her to shift back. “I wanted to tell you, but your father—”

  “What in the world does my father have to do with this?” The words exploded from his mouth. He glared at her, his eyes harder than she’d ever seen, even stonier than the day they’d split up.

  “Does he know about the boy? About Owen?” he demanded.

  “Yes.”

  He sucked in a long breath. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She shook her head and waited for him to explode again. She felt terrible about this. Just awful, but she couldn’t think of a way to convey that to him so she said nothing.

  He raked his hand through his hair and started pacing. “I have a boy. A son. I’m a father.”

  He suddenly stopped and looked at the phone again. “I can see it now. The resemblance.” He gently touched the screen, his anger fleeing for a moment, amazement settling in.

  Her heart shattered, and she didn’t know if it could ever be mended. This is the look he would’ve had when Owen was born if only she’d told him instead of believing his father. Riley would have been there. Held his son in his arms. Loved him from day one. That was the kind of man
Riley was.

  And maybe that played into her decision, too. Her fear that he was such a wonderful, stable, calm man that he could easily have gotten custody of Owen if he’d wanted to. With or without his father’s help.

  She was on the road all the time. Playing concerts. She didn’t neglect Owen and leave him home. Her mother often came on tour, traveling in her own vehicle, and staying in an adjoining room with Owen, allowing Leah to spend time with her son yet keep him a secret. With her nomadic life, a judge would’ve sided with Riley, not her. She could never lose her son, so she had to hurt Riley in the process.

  He lifted his head, the sadness apparent in the downturn of his lips. “Tell me what my father has to do with this.”

  She didn’t want to speak. Didn’t want to hurt him more, but he had to know the truth. Every bit of the ugliness.

  She took a sip of water, and then pulled in a long breath. Finally, she met his gaze. “When I first learned I was pregnant, I didn’t know what to do. I did nothing for the first few months, maybe hoping it would go away. But then the baby started moving, and I knew it was real. He was real. So I tried to get ahold of you. I texted. Emailed. Called.”

  “And I didn’t answer. Or respond. I was hurt, and I didn’t want to talk to you, but if I had…” Shaking his head, he dropped onto the nearest chair, set down the phone, and propped his elbows on his knees to rest his head in his hands. “Man…wow. This is my fault. All my fault. I missed so much.”

  “No. No. Don’t blame yourself.” She rested a hand on his shoulder, reveling in touching him and hoping she was transmitting her concern. “Sure, I gave up then, but the last few months of my pregnancy, I knew I had to try harder. So I came to your apartment.”

  He lifted his head. “But I’d moved.”

  She nodded. “And the manager wouldn’t give me your forwarding address. I figured your parents could tell me where you lived. I knew your father might not. He didn’t think I was good enough for you. Your mom would’ve told me. At least I hoped she would. But she wasn’t home.”

  “So you talked to my father, and let me guess, he still thought I was too good for you, and he wasn’t glad to see you.”